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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25899976">Quality Time</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linsky/pseuds/Linsky'>Linsky</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Men's Hockey RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cuddling, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Patrick is dumb here, like really very oblivious, problematic mental health language, touch-induced time blindness</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:14:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,384</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25899976</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linsky/pseuds/Linsky</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“What’s the problem, again?” Sharpy says. “You keep forgetting what time it is?”</p>
<p>“I don’t <i>forget</i>,” Patrick says. “The hours are just, like, disappearing.”</p>
<p>“When you…cuddle Jonny,” Sharpy says.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Patrick Kane/Jonathan Toews</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>432</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Quality Time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/dixieland33/gifts">dixieland33</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A little bit of playoff luck for the Hawks! Which they unfortunately need. :(</p>
<p>Takes place in the 2013-2014 season because I like to live in the past. Like, remember how in the past we could touch other people outside of our households? Those were good times.</p>
<p>(<a href="https://linskywords.tumblr.com">Tumblr</a>!)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Patrick’s never had to think too much about his own sense of time. He probably would have said it was decent. Not, like, anything exceptional. But he generally knows where he is in the day within a half-hour or so—until, that is, the weirdness starts.</p>
<p>It starts, as so many weird things do, at Jonny’s. Patrick’s been hanging out there more recently, now that they’re not road roommates and have to figure out a new rhythm of spending time together. At least, that’s what Patrick thinks they’re doing. He can’t vouch for anything that’s going on in Jonny’s head, because, like, obviously that is a place of mysteries. But they’ve started going over to each other’s places a lot more than they did before the lockout and the whole sped-up season last year, and it’s kind of cool. Like, Jonny’s a total weirdo, but Patrick got pretty used to him, you know? He can’t just go cold-turkey off that kind of crazy. He might forget how much Winterpeg sucks, or something.</p>
<p>Anyway. The point is, when it all starts, Patrick is hanging out at Jonny’s. Which is a thing they do a couple of times a week now, when they’re not on the road. They just got done working out, and now Patrick’s draped over Jonny’s couch all clean from the shower, trying to convince Jonny that <i>Cutthroat Kitchen</i> is totally worth watching. “It’s, like, the best parts of America, where we beat people up for not being good enough, but with food. Plus, it’s totally intense, so you’ll love it.”</p>
<p>“Your hair is dripping on my couch,” Jonny says.</p>
<p>Trust Jonny to focus on the insignificant when there’s a question of television at stake. “Maybe it’s my couch,” Patrick says. “Maybe you snuck into my condo and swapped them in the night.”</p>
<p>“That’s dumb,” Jonny says. “They’re the same. Why would I swap them?”</p>
<p>“Maybe so that when I drip on it, it’s mine and not yours,” Patrick says.</p>
<p>Jonny makes a frustrated noise. “You’re gonna leave a water stain,” he says, getting his hand in between Patrick’s hair and the couch, as if his hand is enough to stop water in its tracks. “Will you at least drip on me instead of the couch?”</p>
<p>“Whatever blends your smoothie,” Patrick says, letting Jonny tug him over so that he’s leaning against Jonny’s shoulder instead of the back of the couch. He’s totally gonna mark his couch somewhere secret when he gets home so that he can tell if Jonny swaps them.</p>
<p>He doesn’t mind the change of position, though. Jonny’s shoulder is surprisingly comfortable. Or, not surprisingly, since Patrick’s done his fair share of falling asleep on Jonny over the years. It just hasn’t happened as often since the remote-control fights of their shared hotel rooms. He’s not asleep now, just leaning, but he feels…surprisingly peaceful. Like if he never moved, he wouldn’t be too upset about that.</p>
<p>Maybe he doesn’t touch people enough. He hears that’s important for, like, health. “Did you know babies actually die if they don’t get touched enough?” he asks.</p>
<p>“Yes,” Jonny says. “They found that out at Bellevue.”</p>
<p>“What?” Patrick makes a face. “Like the insane asylum?”</p>
<p>“Like the <i>hospital</i>,” Jonny says. “Turns out they actually did some medicine there.”</p>
<p>“No, that doesn’t sound right,” Patrick says. “Maybe you’re thinking of a normal baby hospital and you’re just confused because you’re a crazy person.”</p>
<p>“Google it,” Jonny says.</p>
<p>“I’m gonna,” Patrick says, but he doesn’t move. His phone is on the other side of the coffee table. Doesn’t seem worth getting up.</p>
<p>They stay like that for a little while, discussing some wrong opinions Jonny has about reality TV, before Patrick figures he should probably leave if he’s gonna call his mom this afternoon like he promised. So he pries himself up from his really-shouldn’t-be-as-comfortable-as-it-is sprawl against Jonny’s shoulder and hauls himself home. He doesn’t really look at his phone until he gets through the door, and when he does he has to stare at it for like ten whole seconds before he takes in what actual time it is.</p>
<p>He texts Jonny. <i>so did I get in a 12 car pileup on the highway and wander around with amnesia for a few hours or</i></p>
<p><i>WTF?</i> Jonny texts back. <i>You just left here like ten minutes ago.</i></p>
<p>
  <i>yeah but it was afternoon then</i>
</p>
<p><i>Well, I don’t know what to tell you,</i> Jonny says.</p>
<p>Patrick frowns at his phone. 7:34. No <i>way</i> is it 7:34.</p>
<p>He calls his mom anyway, and she gets mad at him a little for not calling in the afternoon. But she forgives him, of course, because she’s Patrick’s mom and she can never stay mad at him for long.</p>
<p>After that Patrick doesn’t really think about it. He’s got a lot going on: hockey to play, goals to score, a season to rock. He can’t sit around wondering what happened to a few hours on a random afternoon one time. But it happens again: a week or so later, when he leaves Jonny’s after hanging out over dinner. This time Patrick walks home, so he can’t even blame a freak car accident, unless maybe he stepped into the street and got hit by a car that way. But that feels far-fetched. It has to be something else.</p>
<p>“There’s a time vortex between our apartments,” he tells Jonny at practice the next day.</p>
<p>Jonny squints at him. “That’s…not a thing.”</p>
<p>“Well, it has to be, because I keep going through it,” Patrick says.</p>
<p>Jonny heaves a sigh, like Patrick is the one trying his patience instead of the other way around. “Okay. What makes you think you went through a time vortex?”</p>
<p>“I got home at ten thirty,” Patrick says. “No way did I leave your place after eight.”</p>
<p>“It was ten past ten,” Jonny says.</p>
<p>“No way,” Patrick says.</p>
<p>“It was ten past ten,” Jonny repeats. “I can prove it. I sent an email right after you left.”</p>
<p>“Yeah? Let’s see it.”</p>
<p>Jonny hands over his phone, open to an email in his sent folder. <i>Hi David,</i> it says. <i>Thank you for your suggestion. I agree that Dad and maman would appreciate a wine rack for their anniversary and would suggest one of the following models…</i></p>
<p>“Oh my God,” Patrick says. “You are actually the most boring person alive.”</p>
<p>“I sent it at ten twenty-two,” Jonny says. “See?”</p>
<p>“That doesn’t prove anything,” Patrick says. “You could have sent it way after I left.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, but I didn’t.”</p>
<p>“Or maybe when I went through the time vortex it affected time for all of us,” Patrick says. “Maybe the whole world jumped forward two hours and everyone’s in denial because—”</p>
<p>Jonny shoves a hockey glove in his face and goes past him to the ice. Patrick isn’t deterred. If Jonny’s too much of a coward to face the truth, Patrick will face it by himself.</p>
<p>After that Patrick’s on his guard. He’s going to catch this time distortion in action. “Just you wait,” he tells Jonny the next time he’s sprawled on Jonny’s couch, his back against Jonny’s chest. They’ve moved to sitting like that recently: it has all the advantages of leaning against Jonny’s shoulder without any of the pointiness of Jonny’s shoulder bones. “I’m gonna blow this thing wide open.”</p>
<p>“Maybe you’re just bad at time,” Jonny says. He scratches his fingers through Patrick’s hair. “Did you think of that?”</p>
<p>“I don’t think I am,” Patrick says, craning his neck to get Jonny’s fingers where he wants them. For one, there’s the thing where he’s awesome at everything, but also: “I was, like, the best at timing my shifts in Juniors.”</p>
<p>“That was a long time ago, though,” Jonny says. “Maybe you’re getting old.”</p>
<p>“Fuck you, I’m still younger than you.”</p>
<p>“What time is it now?” Jonny asks.</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” Patrick says. They’ve been lying around the couch for maybe an hour, so… “One thirty?”</p>
<p>“It’s quarter to four,” Jonny says.</p>
<p>“Yeah, right.” Patrick stretches to see the clock on Jonny’s media center. “No fucking way,” he says, scrambling to sit up. “You changed that to fuck with me.”</p>
<p>Jonny holds up his phone, showing the lockscreen. 3:46.</p>
<p>Patrick goes for his own phone. His screen flashes the same numbers at him. He even Googles it.</p>
<p>“I think I’m having a stroke,” he says.</p>
<p>“You’re not having a stroke,” Jonny says.</p>
<p>“I am,” Patrick says. “It’s one of the four things, right? Face, arms, speech, <i>time</i>.”</p>
<p>“That just means you’re supposed to get someone to the hospital fast,” Jonny says. “It doesn’t mean you lose your sense of time.”</p>
<p>Patrick makes a face. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would there be four things if they’re not the same?”</p>
<p>“Okay, let’s see you,” Jonny says, turning Patrick to face him. He studies Patrick’s face, arms. “Who won the Stanley Cup in 1973?”</p>
<p>“The Habs,” Patrick says right away. “That’s an easy one, though.”</p>
<p>“No slurred speech,” Jonny says. “You pass.”</p>
<p>Jonny’s way more alarmist about health stuff than Patrick, so that probably means Patrick is actually okay. That doesn’t explain the time thing, though. “I have a new theory,” he says, leaning back against Jonny’s chest. “The time vortex is actually in your apartment. It sits behind the weird cleaning-supply section of your pantry and sucks up whole hours from unsuspecting visitors.”</p>
<p>“Maybe you’re just having a good time,” Jonny says. “Time flies, etc.”</p>
<p>“I’m hanging out with you,” Patrick says. “It’s not like I’m at some all-night party.”</p>
<p>“Well, maybe I’m just fun.”</p>
<p>Patrick snorts. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. You spent half an hour trying to get me to drink collard greens earlier.”</p>
<p>“How do you know it was half an hour?” Jonny says swiftly.</p>
<p>“Because I had my phone out to call for help,” Patrick says.</p>
<p>Patrick thinks about it later, though, and maybe there’s something to what Jonny said. Every time Patrick’s been really wrong about what time it is, it’s when he and Jonny have been hanging out on the couch. “I think I’m just getting really into relaxing,” he says to Sharpy the next day.</p>
<p>Sharpy gives him a doubtful look. “Because normally you’re so uptight?”</p>
<p>“No, okay, you’re right,” Patrick says. “I’m baller at relaxing. Fuck, I thought that was it.”</p>
<p>“What’s the problem, again?” Sharpy says. “You keep forgetting what time it is?”</p>
<p>“I don’t <i>forget</i>,” Patrick says. “The hours are just, like, disappearing.”</p>
<p>“When you cuddle Jonny,” Sharpy says slowly.</p>
<p>“Please, we are way too manly to cuddle,” Patrick says. Then, a second later, “Oh my God, that’s what it is. It’s, like, a touch thing. I have touch-induced time blindness.”</p>
<p>“Do not tell me about your kinks,” Sharpy says, so Patrick has to try to get him into a headlock.</p>
<p>He likes the theory, though. It makes way more sense than his next contender, which is that he’s a time-traveling X-man. “I need you to do an experiment with me,” he says to Jackie a few days later when his family meets up with the team in New York to watch them play the Rangers.</p>
<p>“What?” Jackie says, looking alarmed.</p>
<p>She’s relieved when all he wants to do is sit on the hotel bed and watch <i>Friends</i> reruns. “This doesn’t seem like much of an experiment,” she says after a while.</p>
<p>“You’ll see,” Patrick says. He has his arm around her, which is how he and his sisters usually sit to watch TV. They started at noon, and he feels like about an hour has gone by, which means: “What time is it? Like three thirty?”</p>
<p>“It’s one-oh-five,” she says.</p>
<p>Patrick grabs for his phone. “What the fuck,” he says, staring at the display.</p>
<p>“We’ve only watched two episodes,” she says. “They’re half an hour long.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, but.” Patrick stares at his phone, at the bedside clock, at her. He feels betrayed. If time isn’t gonna work, it should at least not work <i>consistently</i>.</p>
<p>He tells Jonny about the experiment when they’re back in Chicago two days later. “And it was like the time didn’t even move,” he says. “I mean, it did, but only like it normally does. I don’t get how I was doing anything different.”</p>
<p>Jonny’s behind him, his arms wrapped around Patrick’s chest, so Patrick can’t see his face. He can hear Jonny’s skepticism his voice, though. “You don’t know what’s different about touching your sister and touching me.”</p>
<p>“I mean, I had my arm around her, so maybe that was it?” Patrick says. “Here, let’s change positions.”</p>
<p>“Peeks,” Jonny says, but Patrick’s already getting up.</p>
<p>“Come on, we have to figure this out.”</p>
<p>“It’s not because of how we’re sitting,” Jonny says.</p>
<p>“No, but it’s—wait. Does this mean you’re acknowledging it’s a thing?” Patrick says.</p>
<p>Jonny hesitates. “I…look. I’m not saying it’s <i>not</i>—”</p>
<p>“Yesss.” Patrick fist-pumps. “I knew you’d see it. We’re totally gonna be able to figure it out now.”</p>
<p>Jonny rolls his eyes. “It’s not some complicated—”</p>
<p>“Oh my God, do you think it’s the <i>couch</i>?” Patrick says. “We should try it at my place. ’Cause, like, there’s gotta be some reason, and if it isn’t the touch thing then maybe it’s—”</p>
<p>Jonny makes a frustrated noise, grabs him by the shoulders, and kisses him.</p>
<p>Patrick’s so startled he freezes. Then Jonny huffs a little and grabs his head and tilts it, and Jonny’s mouth is hot and wet and just, like, ridiculously soft, and <i>oh,</i> okay.</p>
<p>Patrick pulls back, panting, after he doesn’t even know how many minutes. “Well, that explains a lot.”</p>
<p>Jonny’s cheeks are pink. “Sorry,” he says. “We don’t have to—”</p>
<p>“Shut the fuck up,” Patrick says, and launches himself at him. Jonny handles his surprise better than Patrick did: he catches Patrick mid-launch and gets their mouths together. Then he rolls him over, presses him into the cushions, and proceeds to kiss him very, very thoroughly.</p>
<p>It’s even better than leaning against Jonny’s chest. Patrick’s going to have to start setting phone alarms if he ever wants to be on time for anything again.</p>
<p>“I’m still not sure I was wrong about the time vortex,” he mumbles against Jonny’s lips.</p>
<p>“I’ll help you investigate later,” Jonny says, and licks back into his mouth.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Pretty sure I read the Bellevue thing on Tumblr but couldn't find it to verify. But Bellevue did open the U.S.'s first maternity ward in 1799, so at least partial credit. XD</p></blockquote></div></div>
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